


we live our lives in chains

by AylaPascal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark, M/M, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 19:01:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4533543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AylaPascal/pseuds/AylaPascal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape buys Harry at a slave auction. But all is not as it seems...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to aigooism for the beta and luvscharlie for looking it over for errors before it was posted! This was written for hp_porninthesun for parseltonguepen. The title of this fic comes from the song "Already Gone" by The Eagles.

Everybody expected Harry to save them, save them _all_. They expected it back when he was a child at Hogwarts. They expected so _much_ from him, even though he was so young. They expected it back during the Battle of Hogwarts, but Voldemort didn't fall then because Harry wasn't there. Harry had been waylaid by Death Eaters, so after the battle, Voldemort rose and became stronger and stronger.   
  
Harry watched as Voldemort bided his time, until the Ministry crumbled under the weight of its own corruption. Even then, people still looked to him to _save_ them. They kept on looking at him while Voldemort consolidated his power and then it was _too late_.   
  
He couldn't save them. Nobody could.   
  


-^-

  
  
Harry stared out defiantly into the crowd, his hands clasped over his genitals. The stinging flick of a whip across his buttocks made him jump, and the cruel whistle of the breeze over his bare skin caused him to shiver. He ignored the leering looks of the crowd and instead focused on the almost business-like actions of Walden Macnair who was currently straightening up a pile of papers. If Harry concentrated, he could block out the crowd, block out the fact he was naked, and definitely block out what was to come. There was a glint in Macnair's eyes as he looked up.   
  
"And last, but not least, we have somebody very special," Macnair drawled. The crowd fell silent and Harry could feel thousands of eyes looking over him, lingering in areas that made him blush. "We have the infamous Harry Potter." His eyes glittered as he turned towards Harry. "You led us all on a merry chase the last three years, but you now must finally answer to Ministry justice."   
  
The crowd cheered wildly.   
  
Harry spat at Macnair and was disappointed to see that it didn't reach him. "What Ministry justice?" he snapped. "Slave labour? Or are you talking about Sector Five?" Over the last six years, those who had actively opposed the Ministry were sold as slaves to the highest bidder. Others had simply disappeared off the streets, rumoured to be placed in a facility called Sector Five. Harry hadn't been able to find out much about Sector Five, other than the fact it was supposed to be worse than Azkaban.   
  
Macnair smirked. "Step forward Potter. And uncover yourself." He twirled the whip and stroked the handle of it.   
  
Harry glared at him. "Over my dead body."   
  
"That can be arranged," Macnair told him smoothly. "Or did you forget what we did to your Mudblood friend. The Dark Lord does not appreciate disobedience."   
  
Slowly, Harry took a step forward. The cobblestones were hard and cold on his bare feet. His hands shook as he exposed his crotch. He could hear laughter from the crowd. He jumped as he could feel Macnair's hand on his lower back.   
  
"A few more steps," Macnair said softly into his ear, his breath warm. Harry cringed as he could feel Macnair's hand creeping downwards to pinch his bottom. "After all, I don't want to be accused of selling bad merchandise. The crowd wants the opportunity to examine the goods."   
  
Harry's blood ran cold. He did not like the sound of that. "And what if I refuse," he managed to get out through clenched teeth.   
  
Macnair nipped his ear lightly and laughed. The sound of it sent a shiver down Harry's spine. It wasn't a pleasant laugh. "Then you get to experience some of my hospitality," he breathed into Harry's ear. "Oh, I've been _really_ looking forward to this."   
  
With a sick feeling in his stomach, Harry pressed his lips together and took a few more steps forward. If it was a choice between somebody in the crowd and Walden Macnair, he knew what his choice would be. There was still a chance that somebody wouldn't want him for sexual services. It was a small chance, practically non-existent, but Harry still had a flicker of hope. He knew some of the people in the crowd. They weren't bad people. They were just weak and had chosen to side with the Death Eaters when they had taken over the Ministry. Surely some of them would bid on him.   
  
Behind him, Macnair made a disappointed noise. "Before the auction starts, I'd like to give all potential buyers a chance to personally examine this fine slave. During this process, you will have the opportunity to privately bid. If the price is adequate, then the slave will not go to public auction."   
  
Harry was horrified at the sea of hands that went up in the crowd. It seemed as though half the crowd wanted a chance to ... examine him. He had seen what the crowd had done to the other people being sold today. One woman had been finger-raped by several men before Macnair had put a stop to it. He'd suspected that Macnair had enjoyed the show.   
  
Macnair laughed. "Remember that the bidding price for this slave begins at a hundred Galleons."   
  
Harry was relieved to see some of the hands go down. His relief fled when he saw them approach the auction block; he could recognise a lot of the faces. Most of them were well-known Death Eaters who were both rich and well-connected. His stomach churned as he saw Lucius Malfoy and Draco Malfoy among the people approaching. As Harry scanned the faces, he could feel his heart plummet as he met the dark eyes of Severus Snape.   
  
Snape's face was expressionless as he stood in line. It was almost funny, or it would have been if it wasn't so deadly serious. Harry couldn't believe how quickly the line had formed, the line of people who were willing to violate him. And at the head of the line was Lucius Malfoy, his fingers wrapped around his snake cane. Draco was next to him, sneering.   
  
"Two hundred," Lucius said softly to Macnair as he approached. "My son would like this one as a plaything."   
  
Harry gritted his teeth and ignored Draco's laugh. "Look how you've fallen," Draco drawled as he reached over and ran a sharp fingernail over Harry's bare chest. "The Boy Who Lived and now see what you've become."   
  
Harry turned his head and stared at Draco. "I guess you're gay then?"   
  
The confused look amused him for a second before Draco's eyes hardened. His hand shot out. Harry winced at the sharp pain across his face. He was almost surprised when Macnair stepped forward, his wand raised.   
  
"Stop!" Macnair barked. "Do _not_ damage the goods."   
  
Draco's eyes narrowed. "You were more lenient in your other auctions," he muttered.   
  
Macnair's upper lip curled. "This slave's special. He is not to be damaged. Special orders from above."   
  
Despite himself, Harry glanced over at Macnair. Special orders from above could only mean one thing. Voldemort wanted to make sure that he wasn't damaged. He supposed that he should be grateful, but he just wondered why he deserved that kind of special treatment. The expression on Draco's face gave him a fleeting sense of satisfaction. Draco looked like a spoilt kid who had his favourite toy taken away.   
  
"Time's up," Macnair said briefly as he waved the next person forward. Harry could see a flicker of hatred in Draco's eyes as he walked away after his father.   
  
Harry steeled his chin as the next person seemed to examine him closely from head to toe. He was surprised that the person was a woman, but then again, he had known a few women who were equally perverse, such as Bellatrix Lestrange. He had never met this woman before though. She was wearing a strong, cloying perfume that seemed to clog up his head. Harry sneezed as she leaned in closer and seemed to sniff his neck.   
  
"Turn around, please."   
  
Slowly, Harry complied. At least she was polite about it. He could feel her gaze flowing down his back, lingering in certain areas. As he turned back to face her, he could see a pleased look on her face.   
  
"A fine specimen," she said to Macnair. "Thank you." She wrapped her cloak tightly around her shoulders and walked away.   
  
"She's an odd one," Macnair muttered. "But a favourite of the Dark Lord."   
  
Harry pushed his glasses up his nose and squinted after her. Over the past few years, while he had been in hiding, he'd thought he had kept up-to-date on Voldemort's favourites, but it seemed he had missed some. "Who is she?" he asked casually.   
  
Macnair laughed harshly. "Nice try, Potter." He waved the next person forward and Harry could feel his heart plummet when he realised that it was Snape. "Severus, my friend," Macnair said slowly. "I didn't think that these events were to your taste."   
  
Snape sneered. "Tastes can change, Walden."   
  
Harry shifted uncomfortably as Snape looked at him. Unlike everybody else, Snape's sharp gaze never seemed to leave his face. Harry felt strangely more naked under that penetrating gaze than he did when people leered at his cock. "Hello, Snape."   
  
There was a flicker of something in Snape's eyes that Harry couldn't identify. "Potter," he said sharply, "I see that you're as insolent as always."   
  
"That's right," Harry said, pursing his lips. "You're not a professor any more, are you? What happened? Didn't Voldemort think you were good enough?"   
  
Snape glared at him. "I have many ways to silence you, Potter."   
  
Harry could feel his heart pounding in his chest as Snape took a step closer. The man smelt like bitter herbs and spices. His hair was just as greasy as it ever was, and Harry could have sworn that Snape wore the same old black robe as he did years ago when he was still at Hogwarts. "Why bother?" he said. "Why don't you just get another slave?" The word was sour in his mouth.   
  
Harry was horrified when Snape reached over and ran a light finger over his flaccid cock. He glanced over at Macnair who simply gave him a smirk. "Because, Potter, I want you," Snape said, his voice a low purr. "You'll be perfect for my purposes."   
  
Harry shuddered; he didn't want to think about Snape's purposes. "Are you going to just let him touch me like that?" he demanded.   
  
Macnair shrugged. "My orders were that you were to be undamaged and not violated."   
  
"I'm also a private man," Snape said slowly, his words measured. He was still standing uncomfortably close to Harry. "I prefer my property to not be on public display." His palm caressed Harry's right buttock.   
  
"He's not your property yet," Macnair said with a leer.   
  
Snape's eyes glittered. "I'll give you a thousand Galleons."   
  
Harry's mouth almost dropped open in surprise. Out of all the offers so far, and indeed, out of all the auctions so far, this was the highest bid. How on earth did Snape get that much money? He knew Snape wasn't rich. Turning his head slightly, Harry could see Macnair's face twist into an expression of hesitation. There hadn't been a single slave who hadn't gone to auction so far.   
  
"And if that isn't enough," Snape said, leaning in close, "I also have the Dark Lord's personal promise that you will co-operate on this matter."   
  
Macnair's nostrils flared in surprise, but that was nothing compared to Harry's shock. Voldemort had promised him to Snape of all people. For that matter, why on earth did Snape want him? Harry was positive that Snape hated him.   
  
"This auction," Snape said softly, "is for show only. The Dark Lord cannot afford to have dissent among the ranks. But I promise you, Walden, that this slave _will_ be mine."   
  
Macnair coughed into his hand and then wiped it on his robes. "I suppose that offer is more than adequate," he said. There was a flicker of anger in his eyes, but also an expression of amusement. Harry's bad feeling was getting worse by the second. Just who was Snape? And why did Macnair seem to be laughing at him?   
  
"I didn't think I was your type," Harry spat out.   
  
Snape barely turned his head. "I didn't say you were my type, Potter," he drawled. "I said that you were perfect for my purposes."   
  
"Insolence," Macnair murmured. "Be sure to beat it out of him, Severus."   
  
Harry frowned. Macnair's words almost sounded like an order, but that was ridiculous, wasn't it? Then again, he reflected, it really didn't matter to him either way. This was going to be hellish, regardless of who bought him. Those long years of dodging Voldemort's henchmen were for naught. Everything they had done, every last inch of their humanity that they had sacrificed, that numb feeling inside of him, all of that was for nothing. Hermione had been caught a few months ago, and Harry had to watch Ron suffer through the agony of hearing of her treatment at the hands of Death Eaters. Then, a week ago, Ron had been out buying food at a Muggle grocery store when Death Eaters had stormed the place. They hadn't been looking for him; it was just by chance that they caught him. And then, of course, Harry had been caught just a scant two days after.   
  
Harry had seen Ron once when he had been marched past Harry's cell. Ron had given him a look of despair mingled with unwarranted hope. It was obvious to Harry that even after all these years, Ron expected him to save them all from the Death Eaters. His heart had twisted in pain, but he tried to smile anyway. There was no harm in trying to bolster Ron's mood, especially since they both knew what was coming next for both of them.   
  
A hand tightened around his lower arm, clamping a metal bracelet onto his wrist. Harry almost jumped out of his skin. He looked up to see Snape glowering down at him. "Come along, Potter," Snape said abruptly. "You're mine now."   
  
A shiver slid down Harry's spine as he was dragged along. Behind him, he could hear murmurs of unrest among the crowd and Macnair's voice booming out trying to reassure them. "Where're we going?"   
  
Snape just sneered in reply.   
  


-^-

  
  
Harry was almost relieved when Snape lifted up a strategically-positioned Portkey and ten seconds later, he felt the tell-tale yanking sensation at his bellybutton. He hadn't been looking forward to being pulled naked along the streets of Diagon Alley. "Not Apparating, I see," he said casually as they appeared in what seemed like Snape's living room.   
  
Snape gave him a long, silent look.   
  
"Even one of Voldemort's Death Eaters hasn't been given the codes to Apparating in Britain?" Harry taunted. "Makes you wonder how much he actually trusts you, doesn't it?"   
  
Snape's upper lip curled. "Be careful, Potter," he said softly. "One day, impertinence will get you killed."   
  
Harry narrowed his eyes. "So I'm guessing that day isn't today?" he said pointedly. He had seen how Snape was looking at him during the examination. He didn't need to be a genius to figure out what Snape wanted him for and what tonight was likely to entail. The very idea made him sick inside, but Harry pushed that feeling to one side. If he concentrated on the bubbling of his stomach or the crawling sensation on his skin, then he'd likely never get out of this situation unharmed. He needed to keep his wits about him.   
  
"Looking forward to it, are we?" Snape murmured, his voice suddenly silky.   
  
Harry could feel Snape's eyes travelling down his body, lingering on his still-exposed cock. To his alarm, his cock twitched slightly in response to the scrutiny. Harry dug his fingernails into his palm, hoping to draw blood. It was just an involuntary reaction, he told himself, but to his horror, his cock lengthened slightly. To his disgust, Snape licked his lips.   
  
"You're disgusting," Harry snapped.   
  
Snape's eyes glittered. "You seem to enjoy this, Potter."   
  
"I don't like men," Harry told him flatly. "And even if I did, this wouldn't exactly be my venue of choice." He waved his hand around to indicate the room around them.   
  
Snape arched an eyebrow. "This isn't exactly a dungeon."   
  
Harry blinked and found himself looking around the room properly. It definitely wasn't a dungeon and, in fact, normally, he'd be hard-pressed to believe that this was Snape's living quarters. He expected something far more austere. Instead, the room seemed to be quite plush; it was all dark velvet cushions and blood-red curtains. "I'd prefer a dungeon."   
  
"That can be arranged." Snape gave him an icy smile. "I do have a dungeon, complete with manacles."   
  
Harry shuddered.   
  
Snape smirked. "I thought so," he drawled. "Come along. I will show you to your room."   
  
Despite everything, Harry was slightly relieved. He had a room, not a dungeon. Of course, he reasoned, Snape was probably planning to do something disgusting to him in the room as opposed to the dungeon. He'd seen the way Snape looked at him. It was creepy. "Lead the way."   
  
Snape swept his cloak around him and walked out of the room. Harry stared after him. The man didn't even stop to see whether Harry was following him or not. Harry looked down at the metal bracelet adorning his wrist. He tried to prise it off, but it didn't budge. He'd seen slave bracelets like this before; they would shock the slave if he or she tried to run away. Some even shocked the slave if they disobeyed an order.   
  
Harry bit his lip and looked towards the window. He could try to escape. There was a slim chance that the bracelet wasn't yet activated and even if it was, most of them were non-lethal. Surely, Snape wouldn't have been as sadistic enough to get one of the ones that delivered a lethal shock if his slaves left his property? Most bracelets simply incapacitated the slave. Harry took a quick step towards the window.   
  
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."   
  
Harry turned around slowly and saw Snape standing in the doorway. There was a look of amusement in his eyes as he slowly stroked a ring on his right hand, his fingers careful not to brush over the onyx.   
  
"I could have you curled up on the ground right now," Snape told him. "And you wouldn't even know whether it was in pleasure or pain." His eyes gleamed. "This ring can deliver both."   
  
Harry stared. He had never heard of a bracelet that could both imbue pleasure and pain.   
  
"But, of course," Snape continued smoothly, "I prefer my bedroom companions to be willing."   
  
"Then maybe you shouldn't buy slaves," Harry snapped.   
  
Snape's eyes flashed. "Such cheek, Potter. I wouldn't say things like that if I were you." His left hand seemed to be moving almost in slow motion as a finger lightly brushed the onyx. Almost immediately Harry felt a shooting pain up his left arm.   
  
"What the fuck was that?" Harry spluttered as he clutched his arm. He lifted his hand; his fingers seemed to be shaking and his wrist was still throbbing. There were little rivulets of pain shooting up his arm. It was as though somebody had made his bones vibrate from the inside out.   
  
"That was just a taste of what the bracelet on your wrist can do," Snape told him. "It's not just for decoration. I don't think I need to tell you that it cannot be taken off without my permission and you will not be able to leave my property. Oh, and before you think of using wandless magic, the bracelet dampens your magic."   
  
"And here I thought you just liked branding your slaves," Harry muttered.   
  
Snape smirked. "I do." He turned around and walked back towards the corridor. "Follow me, Potter," he called over his shoulder. "Unless you want another taste of the bracelet."   
  
Slowly, Harry followed him. He shivered slightly as he stepped into the cold corridor. The house was obviously not designed for people to walk around naked. He narrowed his eyes at Snape's back. The other man was warmly dressed, yet he hadn't even offered Harry a blanket or a set of robes. Snape was probably taking some kind of sadistic pleasure from this, Harry decided. It was probably some other sort of payback for how his father had treated Snape.   
  
Snape stopped next to a small doorway. "This will be your quarters. I will be back later." Snape opened the door and then, to Harry's surprise, he found himself thrust into the room. The door closed behind him and he could hear Snape's footsteps echo down the corridor.   
  
Harry turned around and stared at the door handle. He tried to open it, but Snape had obviously locked it. With a sigh, he turned back around and looked around the room. This was going to be his new home for the foreseeable future until he managed to escape.   
  


-^-

  
  
Harry paced around his room. The window was blacked out so he couldn't look outside. Candles floated around giving him light and there were orbs in various locations that glowed. There seemed to be nothing in the room of entertainment value so he couldn't even read a book. He was so bored that he would have read a potions textbook and probably enjoyed it. There was food that magically appeared on the table, but it was rather bland and tasteless. He had been ravenous so he had eaten the food quickly, not caring if it had been poisoned. Fortunately, Harry felt no ill effects after the food. If Harry didn't know better, he would have thought that Snape was trying to bore him to death.   
  
"Better than the alternative," Harry muttered to himself as he looked down at the robes he was wearing. He had found them in the cupboard next to the bed and they seemed to fit perfectly. Snape had obviously been expecting him.   
  
Harry shuddered slightly at the thought of Snape imagining him in this very room, wearing these very robes, and lying on the bed. His gaze moved over the bed and then Harry quickly looked away. He didn't want to think about the bed. He definitely didn't want to think about the bed.   
  
With a sigh, Harry stepped away from the bed and back towards the table at the centre of the room. He lifted up a piece of food and bit into it. It looked like an orange, but it tasted like it was some sort of artificially created fruit made by somebody who had no idea what an orange ought to taste like. It was probably some sort of magical fruit. He'd had magical fruit before and found it odd. They didn't taste like what he imagined fruit to taste like.   
  
For what seemed like the thousandth time, Harry glanced at the door. It was still firmly shut, just like when he had looked two minutes ago. He let out a long sigh. It wasn't as though he wanted Snape to come back. After all, that would mean certain things and he definitely didn't want those things to happen. But he did wonder why it was taking Snape so long. After all, from Snape's remarks earlier, Harry wouldn't have been surprised if Snape had deposited him on the sofa in the living room, spread his legs open, and fucked him then and there.   
  
Harry shook his head, as if to erase the mental image, and looked over at the door again. It still didn't open.   
  


-^-

  
  
"Potter," Snape breathed into his ear.   
  
Harry's heart was pounding as he sat bolt upright in bed. He couldn't believe he had fallen asleep, but the day had taken its toll on him. Indeed, the toll of the last few years had been great and as Harry's head had sunk slowly into the pillows, he realised how utterly tired he was. He was tired of running, tired of Death Eaters, and tired of being the one person everybody looked at to save them.   
  
"You fell asleep," Snape told him, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.   
  
"I did," Harry said evenly. He couldn't believe it either. It had actually felt like a rather restful sleep as well, especially given the circumstances.   
  
Snape's eyes glittered. "I presume you wanted to be well-rested for our nightly activities."   
  
Harry bit back a nasty retort but instead said mildly, "No. This room was just boring." It was true enough, after all.   
  
Snape's eyes narrowed. "I assure you, Potter, that you won't be bored soon."   
  
Harry could feel his heart plummet. What he had been fearing all afternoon was about to happen. He could feel his hands trembling; he wiped the sweat onto his robes. "You're disgusting," he told Snape emphatically. "Absolutely repulsive."   
  
"A cretin," Snape agreed, sounding almost cheerful. "I hold no false illusions about what I am about to do."   
  
"Oh, an _honest_ Death Eater," Harry snapped. "Well, obviously that makes it all better, doesn't it?" He wondered how long he could keep Snape talking for. The longer it was, the more he could put off what was going to happen next. He knew that Snape would have difficulty resisting being nasty towards him; it was an ingrained habit.   
  
There was a strange look in Snape's eyes, almost as though he was trying to tell Harry something but couldn't get the proper words out. "There's much that you don't know, Potter," Snape said finally. "Now, don't think that I'm not aware of how you're trying to stall the inevitable."   
  
"It isn't inevitable," Harry retorted. "You don't have to rape me." He watched Snape closely as he said the word and was almost positive he saw the other man flinch slightly. "Just like you didn't have to kill Dumbledore."   
  
Harry saw Snape's knuckles go white. "You don't know what you're talking about. Now, stand up." Snape's hand drifted towards the vicinity of the ring.   
  
Slowly, Harry stood up. "You don't have to do this," he said quietly.   
  
Snape laughed harshly. "Let me guess. I could let you go and we could both escape until we find a deserted island somewhere out of the reach of the Dark Lord? There we could live out the rest of our lives in peace, while being served cocktails by waitresses in bikinis. Or perhaps, were you thinking of joining the rest of your pitiful resistance and eking out a pathetic attempt at living for the next few years until we're either killed or caught again?"   
  
Harry pursed his lips. Snape was making his offer seem ridiculous. "Something like that," he admitted. "Except we don't need to go to that deserted island, if you don't want. Even if we make it as far as Europe, we'll be safe. France has been offering asylum to British refugees."   
  
Snape sneered. "And if it's so easy, why haven't you left sooner?"   
  
Harry quailed. He couldn't think of anything to say to that.   
  
"I know why," Snape told him flatly. "You're a shepherd who won't leave his herd of sheep behind. You want to fight this war even though it's already been won."   
  
"If it has been won, then it's because of cowards like you," Harry spat out. "You betrayed Dumbledore. You betrayed everybody. We all trusted you."   
  
There it was again, the tiny flicker in Snape's eyes. Harry wondered if it was guilt. Perhaps the man could still be convinced. "That was your mistake," Snape said, his words like ice shards.   
  
"But at least you're on the winning side," Harry said bitterly. "Just like Peter Pettigrew, but we all know what happened to him." A few years ago, Peter had got on the bad side of Voldemort who had ordered his death. Peter had been executed while trying to flee England. "You must know you picked the wrong side, Snape. You're not stupid."   
  
Snape shook his head. "You're trying to stall the inevitable, Potter." His eyes flicked over the robes Harry was wearing. "I take it that you went through the cupboard."   
  
"I was cold," Harry snapped. "What did you want? Me spread out naked on the bed like a good little concubine?"   
  
Snape smiled slowly. "Of course not," he drawled. "There's no fun in that. If I wanted that then I could have bought anybody. I wanted _you_ , Potter."   
  
"Of course you did," Harry managed to get out. Snape's intense gaze was making him uncomfortable. There was something too familiar about it and he was nowhere near ready for the glitter of heat in Snape's eyes. "I'm quite the notch on your bedpost. The Boy Who Lived."   
  
Snape took a few steps forward until he was a bare hand span in front of Harry. "That wasn't why I bought you," he said, his voice a low purr. Harry could feel Snape's breath on his cheek. He tried to lean back but Snape just leant forward whenever he did so and it just meant that Harry ended up off-balance. "As I said, I wanted _you_."   
  
Harry was unnerved.   
  
"Unbutton your robes," Snape ordered.   
  
Harry's hands slowly moved to the buttons and then he hesitated. He couldn't do this. Especially not like this. It felt like a negotiation rather than outright rape. There was something _wrong_ about this situation. "No."   
  
Snape's eyes gleamed. "Would you prefer for me to force you, Potter?"   
  
"You _are_ forcing me," Harry protested, waving his hands around. "This just makes it easier for you!"   
  
"I'm going to give you two options," Snape told him, his voice low and threatening. "You will either unbutton your robes, or you will experience this entire encounter without lubrication."   
  
Harry shuddered. "Wouldn't that be uncomfortable for you too?" he pointed out.   
  
"I'll survive," Snape said coldly.   
  
Harry bit down on his lower lip. He could do it. He could be the hero. He could resist and then Snape would use the ring and he would spend the next few hours shuddering on the ground rolling around in pain. And then Snape would still end up fucking him. Or he could undress and go along with this entire screwed up situation. With a horrible churning in his stomach, Harry's numb fingers began to fumble with his buttons.   
  
"Excellent choice."   
  
"For you, maybe," Harry muttered. He concentrated on undoing the buttons as slowly as he possibly could. If he could stall the inevitable for an extra few minutes, maybe his mind could come up with some way of escape. At the bottom of his heart, Harry knew that it was wishful thinking but he still hoped.   
  
"Still stalling, are we?" Snape asked smoothly. His fingers played with the band of the ring. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."   
  
With a grimace, Harry undid the rest of the buttons and let the robe fall to his feet. He hadn't been able to find any underwear in the cupboard so he was naked underneath the robes, other than for the slippers he had found under the bed. He felt slightly ridiculous wearing slippers while being naked, but he kept them on anyway. Harry clenched his hands into fists and told himself that this wasn't any worse than earlier today. In fact, if it wasn't for what he knew would happen next, it would have been better because thousands of people weren't looking at him.   
  
"Good," Snape said. A small smirk played around his lips. "Now, undress me."   
  
Harry stared.   
  
"What are you waiting for?" Snape asked impatiently.   
  
Harry took a small step forward. Bile bubbled up in his throat as he reached forward and fumbled with the buttons of Snape's robe.   
  
"Start from the neck," Snape instructed.   
  
Harry narrowed his eyes but moved his hands upwards. He tried his best not to touch Snape's skin but his hands brushed against the skin of Snape's neck involuntarily as he popped the first button open. Snape made a small sound at the back of his throat as Harry moved to the second button. He was going to get this done as soon as possible, Harry decided. If he hurried this entire process up, Snape could be finished and out of here within the hour. After all, Snape wasn't a young man any more. Surely, he couldn't want more than one go.   
  
"So eager, are we?" Snape murmured. Harry flinched as Snape reached over and cupped his chin. "If you're thinking of trying to hasten things, I must ask you to not bother. I'm going to be here all night."   
  
Savagely, Harry tweaked the next button so hard that it came flying off in his fingers and skidded across the floor.   
  
"Be careful," Snape ordered. "I could have told you to do this with your teeth."   
  
Harry cringed. Now, he had a terrible mental image of Snape making him do things with his teeth. He reached for the next button and undid it more carefully. As he reached the vicinity of Snape's waist, Harry began to get a horrible feeling that Snape was just as naked underneath his robes as Harry was.   
  
"Pureblood tradition," Snape told him, almost as if he was reading Harry's mind.   
  
"But you're not a pureblood," Harry muttered as he pulled the fabric of the robe forward, not wanting to touch Snape.   
  
Snape simply smirked at him; it was obvious he knew what Harry was doing.   
  
As Harry hurriedly undid the rest of the buttons, he determinedly did not look at what was in front of him. He didn't want to think about the fact that they were both naked now and that Snape's cock was looking suspiciously not as flaccid as it should have been. He thought he could hear Snape's breathing quicken slightly as Harry's fingers accidentally brushed the skin of his inner thigh. And then finally, Harry let out his breath as he undid the last button. Awkwardly, Harry stood up.   
  
"Very good, Potter."   
  
Harry stared. Snape was praising him? Now? The irony of the situation was killing him.   
  
"You'll have to kneel again," Snape continued smoothly.   
  
Harry was afraid of that. He stared down at the ground and bit the inside of his cheek so hard that he tasted blood. "And what if I don't?" Involuntarily, Harry glanced towards the door.   
  
Snape let out a long, irritated-sounding sigh. "We've been through this, Potter."   
  
This would be a great time to break the magic-dampening field around the bracelet, Harry told himself, but to no avail. He had tried earlier when he was in the room by himself and it was like trying to push through a brick wall. Whoever had charmed these bracelets was an excellent spell caster. Reluctantly, Harry bent his knees and knelt down on the ground.   
  
"Much better," Snape told him. "Now come closer."   
  
Harry did not like the gleam in Snape's eyes as he inched his way closer. Snape's cock was at eye-level and to his alarm, Snape seemed to be getting aroused. What kind of sick bastard was Snape to get aroused by this? He watched as Snape reached down and wrapped his yellow-stained fingers around his cock.   
  
"Don't be so shy, Potter," Snape said irritably. "Come forward."   
  
To Harry's mild surprise, he realised that Snape seemed to be using euphemisms for the entire situation. "You can't say it, can you?" he taunted. "You're trying to dress this entire situation up into a seduction. Why don't you just say that I should come forward so you can rape me?"   
  
Snape sneered down at him. "No, I want you to come forward so you can suck my cock." The crude words dripped off his tongue like acid.   
  
"Ah, so the rape comes later?" Harry snapped.   
  
"Stop stalling," Snape said. By now he had stroked his cock into its full length. It was jutting out from his hips towards Harry who gulped. It was quite a bit bigger than his own and it didn't look like it could fit into his mouth let alone any other orifice. "Open your mouth."   
  
Harry swallowed before opening his mouth a fraction.   
  
"Wider," Snape ordered.   
  
Closing his eyes, Harry opened his mouth as wide as he could. A second later, he felt something large sliding into his mouth. He almost gagged at the taste. It wasn't as though it was that bad, at least it wasn't anywhere near as terrible as one of Fred and George's trick sweets, but there was something distinctly male about the taste.   
  
"Open your eyes," Snape told him. "And for Merlin's sake, Potter, use your tongue."   
  
Reluctantly, Harry prised his eyes open and as his gaze fell on the cock that was already halfway in his mouth, he resisted the urge to throw up. He looked up at Snape, who had a look of disdain on his face. It was almost as though he was back in Hogwarts and Snape was lecturing him on the proper composition of potions ingredients.   
  
"Didn't you hear me?" Snape's voice was low and dangerous. "Disobedience _will_ be punished."   
  
A shiver wound its way down Harry's spine as he pulled back. "It's not like I've done this before," he snapped. "Maybe you should have got a girl if you wanted this done properly."   
  
Snape's eyes glittered. "I don't like girls, Potter."   
  
Oh. Harry shuddered. He had been partially hoping that this was all some sort of twisted vendetta against his father and that the goal was humiliation. If Snape actually liked men then it meant that this was likely to happen again and again. "Well, I do," he said defiantly.   
  
Snape's lips twitched. "Then remember what your girlfriends used to do."   
  
That was easier said than done. After all, Harry was positive that his previous girlfriends had all actually liked him while they were doing this. Taking a deep breath, Harry leaned forward and brushed his tongue over the tip of Snape's cock. He was oddly pleased when Snape inhaled sharply and dug his nails into Harry's shoulders.   
  
"Very good, Potter."   
  
Harry ignored him. The only thing that could make this situation worse was to be praised for his work. He just wanted to get the entire night over and done with. Gingerly, Harry reached up and wrapped his fingers around Snape's cock. The skin was soft, not unlike the skin of his own cock, and Harry had the sudden urge to dig his nails into the skin or to lean forward and bite down. Surely that amount of pain would incapacitate Snape?   
  
"Remember, no biting."   
  
Was the man a fucking mind reader? Harry clenched his hands into fists and narrowed his eyes. He could see Snape casually move his hand into his line of vision and could see one of Snape's fingers brushing the band of the ring. With anger bubbling up inside him, Harry was careful not to let his teeth brush Snape's cock.   
  
"Exceeds Expectations, Potter," Snape murmured. "Just a little more tongue and we could get you up to an Outstanding."   
  
Stubbornly, Harry refused to use his tongue. A drop of saliva rolled down his chin and he reached up and wiped it away. Pulling back slightly, Harry looked up. "How long do I have to do this for?"   
  
Snape smirked. "Eager for the next stage? I always knew there was more about you than meets the eye."   
  
Harry mentally kicked himself as he found himself being pulled up. Snape's eyes were dark tunnels as he bent his neck and kissed Harry hard on the lips. Harry's mind reeled as he could feel Snape's tongue brushing up against his own. Why on earth was Snape kissing him? He wasn't prepared for this. There was an odd tingling sensation sliding through his veins as Harry was dragged forward and pressed up against Snape. He could feel Snape's cock hard against his stomach.   
  
"Now, as I said before, I don't like unwilling participants."   
  
Harry watched as Snape reached down and wrapped his fingers around Harry's limp cock, which twitched as Snape began to stroke it. He was horrified as he could feel himself becoming aroused; it was a combination of the physical sensation and the adrenalin flowing through his veins. "Fuck," Harry muttered into Snape's chest as Snape nibbled on his ear. This was wrong, wrong, _wrong_ but somehow, his body didn't seem to know the difference.   
  
Suddenly, Harry felt a warm mouth enclose around his half-erect cock and he suddenly realised that Snape was no longer standing in front of him. Instead, Snape was kneeling, his mouth wrapped around Harry's cock, his normally-thin lips looking almost swollen as they moved up and down. This was _definitely_ not what he'd expected, Harry thought wildly. He was supposed to hate this and he wasn't supposed to get aroused. Instead, his heart was pounding as Harry found himself hardening further, thrusting his hips forward so that he could make use of Snape's mouth as much as he could. This was all Snape's fault, Harry thought as he reached down and grabbed a handful of Snape's greasy hair, pulling the man forward.   
  
He could hear Snape chuckle, the vibrations moving through his cock, making Harry's head spin. It suddenly occurred to Harry that this was all part of Snape's plan and that Snape was getting off on this entire situation. He was about to step backwards, when he felt Snape's tongue slide along the underside of his cock.   
  
Harry's knees trembled as he thrust his cock into that warm, wet mouth. This was Snape. This was the man who had made every potions class at Hogwarts hell. This was the man who had betrayed everything they stood for. But all of those thoughts flitted out of his mind as he dug his nails into Snape's shoulders and ignored the fact that this fucked up thing was the most exquisite thing he had ever experienced. Every time Snape moved his lips, Harry could feel himself getting closer, closer, and _closer_.   
  
The world seemed to swirl around him as he threw his head back and gasped. Snape chuckled again, but that just made things worse. Harry could hear himself panting as he pulled Snape forward, forward, _forward_ until he could feel himself coming down Snape's throat, while Snape's tongue moved expertly to coax every last bit of come out of him.   
  
Almost immediately afterwards, Harry regretted it. He would have stepped backwards but Snape's hands fastened around his hips and kept him there, while those lips and that tongue continued to do their work. Harry could feel himself going limp, but still, Snape kept on going. "What are you doing?" he finally asked.   
  
Snape awkwardly stood up. His lips were red and swollen and he looked just like the cat that had eaten the cream. "Making sure that you're completely relaxed for the activities ahead," he said, his voice slightly raspy.   
  
Harry could feel his body stiffen. "Yeah?" he said. "I don't think it worked."   
  
To his surprise, Snape laughed softly. "Well, I also have lube. You don't need to be _that_ relaxed."   
  
Harry took a step backwards. He knew what the bracelet he wore could do. He knew what Snape was capable of, but he really didn't think he could go through this. What had already happened was bad enough, but it wasn't that much different to what he'd done with girls. "I'm not gay," he managed to get out, his words sounding strangled. Harry was acutely aware of how ridiculous those words were, but he had to make it clear to Snape. "Can't we just... do what we were doing?" He waved his hands around helplessly.   
  
Snape's face closed off and his fingers brushed over the onyx ring. Almost immediately, Harry felt a shooting sensation go through his stomach and chest. It radiated upwards towards his neck, feeling like the worst stomach-ache and heartburn he had ever experienced multiplied by a hundred. And then, just as the feeling was becoming too much to bear, it went away. "I warned you," Snape said coldly.   
  
Harry clutched his stomach and gasped. The pain was already gone, but his nerve endings were still tingling. "Fine," he managed to get out. "What'd you want me to do?" Harry had no idea how gay sex was supposed to work, other than the fact that apparently lubrication was essential.   
  
Snape smirked. "This can happen two ways. You can either turn around and let me bugger you up against the wall, or you can let me do this properly."   
  
"Is there a third option?"   
  
"No."   
  
Harry shuddered. From what he had just experienced with Snape's mouth, he realised that he was either going to have a horrible experience or a reasonably good physical experience. He wasn't sure which one was worse. "Why are you doing this?"   
  
"Why is the sky blue?" Snape said rhetorically. "You should know better than to ask questions like that."   
  
"Hermione could probably give you the answer to that," Harry pointed out. "It's something to do with light."   
  
Snape's lips twisted into a semblance of a smile. "She was always too bright for her own good." He reached over and brushed his fingers lightly over Harry's cock, which twitched slightly.   
  
Harry hated his body for betraying him like this. "The first one," he muttered, glancing over at the bed. He didn't want to do this in a bed. What Snape had done before was bad enough. He wasn't going to make this any easier on the other man.   
  
Snape raised an eyebrow. "Very well," he said smoothly. As Harry watched he reached over and summoned a bottle of lube from one of the bedside drawers. "I presume you do want lubrication?"   
  
"Why are you giving me these choices?" Harry spluttered. "They're useless! I want you to let me go!"   
  
"That's not on the menu, Potter," Snape told him, his eyes gleaming. It was obvious from his expression that he thought that Harry was definitely on his menu for this night. "I take it from your expression that you would prefer to not be bleeding tomorrow morning."   
  
Silently, Harry nodded.   
  
Snape gestured towards the wall. "Brace yourself up against that and open your legs. And for Merlin's sake, relax. Otherwise, this is going to be very painful."   
  
As Harry moved to comply, he couldn't help but think that Snape's lecturing manner didn't belong in the bedroom. Especially in a situation like this. "Do you treat all your lovers this way?" he snapped. "Oh wait; you probably don't have any willing ones."   
  
Snape didn't answer, but Harry inhaled sharply as he could feel Snape looming up behind him. Snape's cock seemed to be half-hard; he could feel Snape moving behind up, undoubtedly making himself harder. Harry gasped and almost jumped as he could feel Snape's fingers slathering something cold over his arse. How did men like this? There was absolutely nothing sexy about Snape's thin fingers probing his arse.   
  
"Ouch!" Harry exclaimed as he felt Snape's fingers inside him. They seemed to be _stretching_ something down there.   
  
"So willing," Snape breathed into his ear, his voice a low purr. He thrust his hips forward and Harry could feel his cock probing up against his bum. "It's so lovely to have a _willing_ and eager slave."   
  
To Harry's shock, he felt Snape slap him sharply on the arse before those fingers returned and probed him for a few more seconds before withdrawing. Harry could feel a churning in his stomach as he could feel Snape preparing himself. He would have dug his fingernails into the walls but they seemed to be made of solid stone. Instead, Harry just pressed his sweaty palms as hard as he could into the walls and took a deep breath.   
  
Just before Snape's cock entered his arse, Harry heard Snape say softly, "Remember, Potter. This was your choice." And then there was nothing but the excruciating pain of something large entering him.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Harry woke up and for a minute, he couldn't remember where he was. And then, as he sat up and felt the soreness of his arse, the memories came rushing back. Snape had fucked him up against the wall and then had spent the entire night getting Harry to slowly suck him off. Harry's jaw felt sore as he opened his mouth. "Fucking bastard," he muttered, mentally shuddering at the memories. Harry itched to punch Snape in the nose, to beat the man within an inch of his life, but he knew that if he did that, then he would be writhing on the ground in pain as soon as Snape's fingers touched that ring. With effort, Harry pushed the thought out of his mind. If he dwelt on it, if he dwelt on the rape, or what happened to Hermione and Ron or _anything_ of what had happened in the last six years, Harry knew that he wouldn't be able to function. He needed to not think about it, to keep his own sanity. He needed to focus on the present.   
  
Harry looked around. It was obvious that after the activities last night, Harry had nodded off at some point and then Snape must have left sometime after that. There was a covered plateful of food sitting on the table. Wincing, Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed and then padded over to the table. Lifting the cover, he realised the food was still hot. It was steaming, in fact. Suspiciously, Harry looked around the room. Was Snape watching him in some way? Or was there simply a spell on the food?   
  
He lifted up a fork and prodded the rolls. Harry wouldn't put it beyond Snape to poison the food. Maybe he shouldn't eat it. For all he knew, the food he had yesterday was poisoned as well. Harry pursed his lips as he heard his stomach grumble. This food smelled much nicer than the food from yesterday. There was even an ice cold glass of pumpkin juice on the tray. Harry's mouth watered. Surely the juice couldn't be poisoned?   
  
"Damn it," Harry snapped as he picked up the glass and took a sip. There was nothing unusual about the taste so he quickly drank it down. He was simply too hungry and thirsty to try to do this properly. They hadn't fed him at all in the few days after he had been captured. The food he had yesterday had simply taken the edge off the hunger.   
  
Picking up one of the rolls, Harry sniffed it. It smelled like roast beef and roast vegetables. Almost without meaning to, he took a bite out of it. It was definitely much nicer than the bland food from the previous day. Briefly, Harry wondered whether this was some sort of reward for what he had done with Snape the previous night. Perhaps Snape was trying to create the perfect slave through punishments and enticements. Harry took another bite of the roll and vowed not to fall into Snape's traps. As he looked down at the glass, Harry noticed that it had refilled itself with pumpkin juice. So, it was obviously a spell.   
  
Harry pursed his lips and concentrated on the tray, but he couldn't seem to sense any sort of magic on the tray. In fact, he couldn't seem to sense any sort of magic in the room, but he knew that there had to be spells on the windows to be unbreakable and the door so that it couldn't be opened. He had already tried yesterday to smash his way through one of the blacked out windows to no avail. Every bit of furniture in the room that he could use was bolted down, probably with magic. He tried to elbow the window a few times but had just ended up with a sore elbow. He'd also tried to use wandless magic but had just succeeded in giving himself a headache. It was obvious that Snape had thought of everything. In any case, even if he could get out of this room, the bracelet's proximity censors would incapacitate him as soon as he stepped out of the grounds.   
  
Harry kicked the table. "What the hell do you expect me to do in here?" he shouted at the door, but Snape didn't appear.   
  
He'd noticed yesterday that there was a toilet in one corner of the room. There seemed to be no ventilation in the room, yet no smell from the toilet seemed to linger. Undoubtedly, it was another spell. Harry ran his fingers through his hair and then wrinkled his nose. It was quite possibly worse than Snape's. He hadn't had a shower since before he was captured. One of the Death Eaters had cast a quick cleansing spell over him before the auction, but cleansing spells never were as good as proper showers.   
  
With a sigh, Harry walked back over to the bed and sat down. Almost immediately he stood up again, wincing. Perhaps he shouldn't have chosen option one the previous night. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. It was definitely painful and at no point did his body betray him, but right now, it was bloody painful just to sit down.   
  
Harry looked over at the tray, almost hoping for some sort of painkilling potion to appear on it, but no luck. Gingerly, he tried to sit down again, ignoring the shooting pain up his arse. Once he was seated, the pain seemed to die away into a dull ache, until he tried to move. It seemed like if he wanted to stay seated, he needed to sit very still. "Great," Harry muttered. In the past few years, when he had heard of people being captured and sold at auctions, he had never thought of boredom as being one of the things they would have to battle. He had prepared himself for pain, for torture, for the worst things he could think of.   
  
Instead, Snape seemed to act nothing like what Harry had prepared himself for. It wasn't as though Snape had been nice. Nice would have been letting Harry go. But Snape hadn't locked him in a dirty dungeon and let all his fellow Death Eaters have a go. Harry had to give him credit for that. Of course, Harry suspected that Snape was acting like this for a reason. There had to be some sort of nefarious plan in place.   
  
He just needed to figure out what it was.   
  


-^-

  
  
Snape arrived later that day – Harry wasn't sure what time it was, given that he couldn't see the sun, but he suspected that several hours had passed – with a small jar that he handed over to Harry. "This will help with the pain," Snape said abruptly, holding it out.   
  
Harry took it with shaking hands. He had started trembling almost immediately after Snape had walked into the room. He hadn't expected to have such a strong reaction to Snape. After all, when he woke up this morning, he was simply angry at Snape for what he had done, but he didn't feel this bubbling fear that seemed to be spreading all over his skin. Obviously what had happened was sinking in now; Harry really wished it wouldn't, he didn't need this kind of reaction. He didn't want to look up at Snape, just the mere sight of the other man made him remember what had happened the previous night and how complicit he had been in his own rape. The thought sickened him.   
  
Logically, Harry knew that he had no choice in the matter. He had done nothing wrong; he'd simply made decisions to help himself survive in a horrible situation. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to look up at Snape. He wasn't going to give Snape the satisfaction of seeing how much this had affected him.   
  
"I hope you don't expect me to thank you," Harry said finally.   
  
"I know your manners, Potter," Snape drawled. "They're atrocious."   
  
"Well, that's what comes from growing up in a cupboard," Harry muttered as he screwed open the jar and looked at the cream inside. It didn't smell too bad; it smelled a bit like mint and spices.   
  
"It's a topical cream. You need to apply it once every six hours." Snape told him. When Harry still didn't move to apply it, Snape rolled his eyes. "Do you expect me to put it on for you?"   
  
"No," Harry said quickly. That would be a new level of torture. It was embarrassing enough when a professional mediwitch or mediwizard did something like that, but to have his captor do it would be horrible. "But I would like some privacy."   
  
Snape lifted an eyebrow and sneered. "You do realise that I've already seen you naked."   
  
"And I'm your slave," Harry finished. "Can I have some privacy?"   
  
Snape gave him an odd look and then to Harry's surprise, he seemed to glance towards one of the corners of the room. Harry resisted the urge to look over as well. "You may," he said, after a long pause. "I was about to go out anyway. I won't be back until tomorrow night, but food should appear at regular intervals for you."   
  
"Thank you," Harry said sarcastically. He looked pointedly at the door until Snape swept his robes around him and left the room. The door closed behind him with a click and Harry could hear the faint murmur of a spell being cast outside. He sighed. So much for the faint hope that Snape would forget to seal the door behind him.   
  
He stared at the small jar in his hands. It was unlabelled, which probably meant that Snape had brewed the contents himself. At least that meant that it was likely to be effective, Harry thought sourly as he dabbed a little bit of the cream on the tips of his fingers. Snape might have been a traitor, a rapist, and a sadistic bastard, but he was a damn good potions master. Harry rubbed the cream thoughtfully into his fingertips and stared at them. The cream seemed to be slightly warming and numbing.   
  
Shifting slightly on the bed, Harry winced at the shooting pain that went through him. He was going to have to try the cream. If he didn't, then the pain alone would probably distract him enough from coming up with a good escape plan. Harry shot a quick look around the room before hoisting up his robes. He felt intensely uncomfortable as he used his fingers to rub the cream in. The warming and numbing sensation of the cream was almost pleasant as he spread it over the painful areas. Almost immediately, Harry felt relief from the stinging pain. It felt as though the tiny cuts were closing up and the sore muscles were relaxing.   
  
"Damn," he muttered as he looked at the jar. It really was very good stuff. They could have used something like this during the last few years. Harry had lost count of the number of times they had to raid St Mungo's for medical supplies such as these.   
  
When Harry had finished, he went and rinsed his fingers off in the small sink next to the toilet and then went back to sit on the bed. It was almost a pleasurable feeling to be able to sit down and not feel the pain that had been bothering him all morning. And there was almost half the jar left, which apparently he needed to apply in six hours time.   
  
"Except there's no clock in here," Harry said sourly at the wall. It didn't respond, not that he would have expected it to. Harry considered walking over to kick the wall, but he suspected he'd end up with nothing but a sore toe.   
  


-^-

  
  
Harry paced around the room. It felt like days since Snape had last come around. It wasn't as though he wanted Snape's company. In fact, that was one of the last things that Harry wanted, but he still wanted to know where Snape had disappeared off to. Of course, he wasn't _worried_ about Snape. That would have been ridiculous. He was simply worried about his own well-being. If Snape had been murdered by Voldemort or one of his other Death Eaters, then it could be weeks before anybody else discovered that Harry was here.   
  
Sure, he had food and water, but Harry was still positive that he would go insane with boredom long before the few weeks were up. He was already getting there. The last meal that had appeared on the table was macaroni and cheese. Harry had spent a good part of an hour sculpting a house out of the food before eating it.   
  
"You bastard," he shouted experimentally at the wall, but that didn't help. "Somebody help me!" Harry tried again, but nobody came.   
  
He had tried, yet again, to break through both the window and the door, but they were sealed tightly shut. He had considered trying to dig his way through the walls or the floor, but the only tools he had were a metal fork and spoon and neither of them were likely to make a dent in the stone.   
  
Harry sighed and slumped down on the chair, his mind drifting. He hoped that Ron and everybody else who had been captured during their years of guerrilla warfare were all still alive. He would have hoped that they were okay, mentally and physically, but he knew that was unlikely. In any case, wounds – both mental and physical – could be healed once they had won. If they ever won, Harry thought morosely. He could still remember the happy days back at Hogwarts when they thought that it was all so _easy_ and that they could defeat the Death Eaters because they were the _good side_.   
  
But, unfortunately, reality just wasn't that simple. It didn't matter that they were right and the other side were wrong. It didn't matter that the people secretly supported them because when Voldemort took over the Ministry all those years ago, he commanded the fear of the people. And, these days, fear seemed stronger than what was good and just.   
  
"Six years," Harry muttered as he stroked the tines of the fork. They'd been fighting for six years, ever since his seventh year at Hogwarts. They'd believed that it would end there, in a great battle at Hogwarts, but they were wrong. The war had just kept on going, bleeding both sides dry. Sometimes, Harry had looked around at the faces of Ron and Neville and Seamus and realised that he didn't recognise them anymore. Everybody had hardened and changed, especially when they had been on the run for the better half of a decade. Harry spent as little time as possible examining himself because he didn't like what he saw. There was something numb inside of him. Of course, he thought, if he didn't feel like that then he would probably be curled up in a corner right now. It was only because of the war and the permeating numbness that Harry could deal with being a slave.   
  
And then, to think that it would end like this. Harry looked around the room bitterly. He knew that the people out there would keep on fighting. They _had_ to. There was nothing left for them to do but continue. War was the only thing they knew now. They'd all put aside their childish hopes and dreams of a peaceful life and family, so they could wage this never-ending battle for their freedom.   
  
Hermione had always said that they were fighting for a better life for their children.   
  
Ron would always turn to her and ask whether any of them were fit to have children anymore, and then they would both laugh hysterically.   
  
Harry was never sure what was so funny, but he would laugh with them anyway. The laughter took him away from the crude Muggle bombs he was creating and the nightmares that haunted him. There was so much collateral damage, on both sides, and Harry knew that it wasn't all Voldemort's fault. He still blamed them though.   
  
He _had_ to.   
  
The sound of food appearing on the table jerked Harry back into the present. He blinked rapidly as he stared at the bowl of stew before pushing it away. Harry yawned. He wasn't hungry. He was just exhausted.   
  
As Harry walked over to the bed and stretched out on it, he wondered that if he hoped hard enough, whether he could just close his eyes and wake up ten years ago. Harry's eyes closed slowly and he fell asleep dreaming of trips to Hogsmeade, asking girls to the dance, and wondering if professors would believe that ten inches was really twelve inches.   
  


-^-

  
  
Harry woke up with a start. This time it only took him a few seconds to remember where he was and what circumstances landed him here in a tiny room in Severus Snape's house with only a few candles for light. He cocked his head to one side, wondering what it was that woke him up. As Harry shifted on the bed, he knew that it wasn't pain. There was slight discomfort, but nothing more; the cream had done its job.   
  
Harry jumped as he heard something outside of his door. There was a stumbling noise, and then the sound of somebody heavy falling against the door. Harry slipped out of bed and reached up to grab one of the few candles that stayed lit during the night. "Who's there?" he called out, wishing that Snape had left him with some line of defence. As much as he hated Snape, he would prefer him to any of the other Death Eaters. For all he knew, the sound outside was some crazed Death Eater, with a vendetta against Snape, coming to kill him. And he had absolutely nothing to defend himself with.   
  
There was a choking sound from outside, halfway between a laugh and a sob, and then Harry heard indistinct words.   
  
"I can't hear you," Harry said loudly, brandishing his candle in front of him. It wasn't going to be much use against a Death Eater with a wand, but hopefully he could have the element of surprise. Plus, there was always a slim chance that this was somebody here to rescue him.   
  
His heart pounded as he watched the door handle turn slowly, almost as though the person outside didn't have the energy to move it. A ragged, bleeding figure stumbled into the room. As Harry lifted the candle he was holding and gasped. It was Snape! What on earth had happened to him? He hadn't seen the man in what felt like days. There was a brief flare of satisfaction in Harry as he looked at how injured Snape was, but he quashed it. He was supposed to be the good side; he wasn't supposed to feel happy to see another person injured, even if they were the enemy.   
  
"What happened?" Harry asked as soon as he found his voice. His gaze was drawn downwards to Snape's wand holster and the wand inside. He didn't know what would happen if he tried to cast a spell with a wand while wearing the slave bracelet but he was willing to give it a shot.   
  
"T-the Dark Lord," Snape croaked.   
  
Harry blinked rapidly, his thoughts about the wand suddenly diverted. "Voldemort?" he said with surprise. "He did this to you?"   
  
Snape winced. It was obvious that every movement was causing him pain. "W-wait," he said suddenly, his words harsh. Blood dripped out of the side of his mouth as he reached down to wrap his fingers around his wand.   
  
Harry's mouth was dry as he saw Snape draw it. His eyes widened as he saw Snape flick the wand towards a corner of the room. There was a slight hissing sound and then Snape slumped over again. Harry looked over towards the door. This was the perfect opportunity to run. Surely, somewhere else in the house, there would be a book or something covering the process of removing his slave bracelet. And if he could get it removed, then he'd be free.   
  
He then looked down at Snape who was curled up in a foetal position on the ground. "Why did you come here?" Harry asked aloud, but Snape didn't answer. From the look of it, Snape was unconscious. It was apparent that the last effort to grab his wand had been too much for him. The wand was currently limp in his fingers.   
  
Harry hesitated before grabbing the wand. It tingled in his fingers like all strange wands did before he got used to them. He looked down at the wand and sighed. Despite everything Snape had done to him, Harry couldn't just leave him here to die. It would be against everything he believed in.   
  
"You'd better be grateful, you bastard," Harry muttered as he tucked the wand in the pocket of his robes before grabbing Snape's body and dragging him towards the bed. He was perversely glad as Snape's head knocked against the legs of the table.   
  
Suddenly, Harry stopped. There was an awful lot of blood coming from Snape. In fact... Harry stopped and looked down. It looked as though some of the blood was coming from underneath Snape's robes. There were only a couple of reasons why Snape would be bleeding so profusely down there, and none of them boded well for Snape.   
  
Taking a deep breath, Harry lifted the robes and gasped. Despite everything Snape had done for him, he couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him. Nobody deserved to look like _that_ down there. Even this morning, as sore as Harry had felt, he wasn't bleeding like that. There were a couple of small cuts and some severe discomfort the first time he had gone to the toilet, but after the cream he had put on, Harry almost felt normal. He suspected that wasn't going to be the case for Snape.   
  
Harry hesitated.   
  
There was nothing stopping him from just leaving Snape here. He had woken up several times the previous night, shaking and sweating. He couldn't remember the nightmares, but given the situation, they were undoubtedly about Snape. He looked down at Snape, slumped on the carpet. It wasn't his fault that Snape was in this situation. He wasn't obligated to help in any way.   
  
"Damn it," Harry muttered as he leaned over and pulled Snape into an upright position. Snape was remarkably heavy. Closing his eyes for a second, Harry exhaled slowly. Then he reached down and managed to lift Snape up just enough to manoeuvre him onto the bed. Blood slowly seeped into the bedspread from Snape's robes.   
  
Harry bit his bottom lip. If he was going to help Snape, then he needed to do it properly. He couldn't just stand around and dissect his reasons for helping for the rest of the night. He could do that once Snape was out of the woods. He looked down at Snape. Well, if he remembered his time in the hospital wing at Hogwarts correctly, the first thing he needed to do was to make sure that all wounds had stopped bleeding. Or was it head trauma? Harry looked at Snape's head but he couldn't seem to see any visible injury.   
  
"So bleeding first," Harry said.   
  
The problem was that he had no idea how to stop the bleeding. Well, he did have one idea, but he definitely wasn't going to put pressure on the wound. Besides, he didn't know if there were other wounds under Snape's voluminous robes. He wasn't going to undress the man to find out. Harry's fingers trembled as he fought to stay in control. Memories from the other night kept on threatening to flicker back into his mind. Harry pushed them away. He could deal with those memories later. Much, much, _much_ later.   
  
Frowning, Harry remembered that Hermione had once mentioned that there was a certain type of potion that could help thicken the blood. "A coagulate potion!" Harry exclaimed out loud as he remembered the name. Apparently, she had said that that kind of potion was almost as good as using a spell to knit together the skin. Since Snape was a potions master, Harry suspected that he must have some lying around his house somewhere. "Be right back," he said, without looking at Snape.   
  


-^-

  
  
Harry was almost surprised when there were no wards up in any other area of the house stopping him from entering. It was almost as though Snape had assumed that whatever he had done to that small room, plus the slave bracelet, was more than enough to stop Harry from escaping. The corridors that Harry hurried down were long and dusty. Harry wondered how on earth Snape had managed to afford a place like this. He doubted that being an evil minion paid that well and he knew that Snape didn't inherit this place.   
  
Most of the rooms that he peered into seemed to be spare rooms with only a few items of furniture. Gloomy, dark curtains were drawn over the windows, and from the edges of the curtains, Harry could see that it was night outside. He was careful not to lose track of where he walked. He didn't want to get lost in this maze of a house.   
  
As Harry saw a room filled with books, he stopped. Surely there was something in there that could help him to escape. From the doorway, Harry could see that most of the titles were Dark Arts related, which probably meant that there was some sort of spell or potion in there that could help him break out of here. Harry bit his bottom lip. Snape was dying back there. He really ought to go back and save him. Then again, given what Snape had done to him, the man really didn't deserve to be saved. Harry shook his head rapidly. He had already made up his mind. He needed to stop stalling. With regret, Harry walked quickly past the room.   
  
He was about to lose hope of coming across anything that seemed like a potions lab or storeroom for potions, when he came across a room that was richly furnished. Harry stopped and stared. It definitely didn't look like a lab, but he was beginning to suspect that it could be Snape's bedroom. Either that or it was some sort of spare bedroom for an honoured guest. Harry shuddered. It could be Voldemort's bedroom, for all he knew. Harry was about to go past the room, but then he saw a door to what seemed like a bathroom. Maybe there were potions in there?   
  
"Hm," Harry said to himself as he walked into the bathroom. There were definitely potions in there. Many, many potions.   
  
Harry lifted one of the bottles up. It seemed to be a headache potion. He tucked it into the pocket of his robes. It could be useful. He scanned the bottles until he saw a potion labelled 'Blood Clotting Potion'. That was what he wanted, hopefully. He then grabbed a couple of bottles of other potions he thought would be useful. Snape looked pretty terrible. It was unlikely he could do much damage at this point.   
  


-^-

  
  
Harry pillowed his face in his hands. He'd poured a couple of drops of the Blood Clotting Potion into Snape's mouth as well as some of the painkilling potion he had found. He'd also found a bottle of potion that claimed to knit together broken bones and torn muscles, so Harry had given some of that to Snape as well, together with a healthy dose of some sort of immunity and energising potion. He had spent a while trying to figure out how to make Snape swallow the various potions before he had hit upon the idea of holding Snape's nose and then pouring it down his throat until he swallowed. He wasn't entirely sure of the exact quantities since Snape didn't seem to write instructions on the bottles, but the blood had stopped flowing about an hour ago and a tiny bit of colour was returning to Snape's sallow cheeks. Harry had been quite pleased with himself.   
  
A small sound from Snape's direction made Harry glance over. He could see Snape blinking slowly as he shifted in the bed. He was finally waking up. Harry scooted his chair closer to the bed and waited until Snape's eyes had fully opened before he folded his arms tightly across his chest. "What happened?" he demanded.   
  
Snape looked confused for a second before looking away. It was obvious that he didn't want to answer. Harry watched as Snape moved his arms and legs, apparently testing that they were all in working order. When Snape turned his head back around again, there was a closed look on his face. "Thank you," he said stiffly. "If you were hoping that I would free you, I have to disappoint you on that account."   
  
"That's not what I meant!" Harry snapped. "I want to know what happened. Why on earth did you come crawling into the room in the middle of the night, half-dead? Who did this to you?"   
  
Snape lifted an eyebrow. Even that small action caused a spasm of pain to cross his face. "Be careful, Potter," he murmured. "People would think that you cared."   
  
Harry pursed his lips. He didn't care, did he? No, that was ridiculous. He was merely concerned because he couldn't stand to see anybody injured and in pain. He was on the good side; it was what they did! "I don't _care_ ," he told Snape coldly. "I would have done the same for anybody. Even Voldemort." Even as the words came out of his mouth, Harry wondered if they were true. He might have done the same for somebody like Peter Pettigrew or even Walden Macnair, but he suspected that there were limits. If Voldemort was in pain in front of him, Harry suspected that he might just walk away.   
  
Snape snorted. "If you believe that, Potter, then you're even more deluded than I thought."   
  
"You're avoiding the question," Harry pointed out. "Who attacked you and left you half-dead?"   
  
"As grateful as I am for your ministrations," Snape drawled as he propped himself up on an elbow, "I must disabuse you of that notion. I was merely injured. I would have been perfectly fine without your assistance."   
  
"You were bleeding all over the floor!" Harry exclaimed. He pointed down towards the large stain on the carpet. "I'm no mediwizard, but you look like you lost a lot of blood."   
  
"I would have been fine," Snape said flatly. "From the looks of those bottles, you just grabbed what you could out of my bathroom and poured a variety of medicines down my throat. You're lucky I didn't die from an overdose!"   
  
"Now who's deluded?" Harry exclaimed, ignoring the fact that was exactly what he had done.   
  
Snape narrowed his eyes. "Are you forgetting your place, Potter?"   
  
Harry let out an explosive sigh. "I probably am," he agreed. "Maybe I should just leave you here alone since you claim that you're perfectly fine. And before you say anything, I know that I can't leave the grounds. I'll just wander around your house instead."   
  
Snape made a rude noise. "I will stop you."   
  
Harry took Snape's wand out of his pocket and waved it in front of Snape's nose. "No, you won't," he said calmly. "And I daresay you won't be able to even walk to that table to eat anything. And of course, the magic dampening spells in this room prevent you from using wandless magic." Harry smirked. "Tell me what happened or I will just leave you here."   
  
"You're a Gryffindor, Potter," Snape said, sounding weary. "I know you. You wouldn't leave me here to die."   
  
"Maybe you're right," Harry said. "But what you don't know is that the Sorting Hat almost put me in Slytherin." He paused to let that sink in for Snape before continuing. "Besides, given what you did to me? What makes you think that I don't want to see you die?" He mentally crossed his fingers before he looked over steadily at Snape. Harry had spent a few hours thinking about this the previous night while he had watched Snape sleep. A few things about the last couple of days were bothering him, things that didn't seem to add up properly. Harry was beginning to suspect that there was something that he was missing and he was determined to make Snape tell him the truth.   
  
"You could have just left me to die last night," Snape pointed out.   
  
"Ah!" Harry pounced. "So you admit it. You were seriously injured."   
  
Snape shrugged. "Perhaps."   
  
"So who did that to you?" Harry demanded. He hesitated before continuing. "Was it Voldemort? One of the other Death Eaters?"   
  
Snape shrugged again.   
  
Harry decided to throw caution to the winds. "You're not as dedicated to the cause, are you?"   
  
"What makes you say that?" Snape sneered, but there didn't seem to be as much force behind it as usual.   
  
"Just tell me the truth," Harry said quietly. "Besides, you said Voldemort's name last night. Well, you said the Dark Lord, but obviously you meant Voldemort. What did he do to you?"   
  
Snape gave him a long look before responding. His voice was slow and measured. "I made a deal for your life," he said. "You were about to be sent to Sector Five, and I convinced Voldemort that it would be better and more enjoyable for everybody if you were my slave."   
  
A thousand questions danced through Harry's head, but when Harry opened his mouth, another one occurred to him. "Why did you point your wand towards the corner of the room last night?"   
  
Snape's eyes immediately flicked to the corner of the room and then he visibly relaxed. "There is a recording device there. I disabled it and made it loop the last twelve hours. Hopefully nobody would have noticed the small glitch."   
  
"Oh," Harry said before the full enormity of it sank in. "What?" he spluttered. "You mean, somebody was watching?" He could feel bile rising up in the back of his throat. It was bad enough that Snape had raped him, but somebody was watching them? "That's sick!"   
  
Snape's mouth quirked. "The Dark Lord himself was likely watching."   
  
Harry swallowed. That made it worse. "That's sick!" he repeated vehemently. "So what? You like people watching you, is that it? You wanted me here so you could have Voldemort watch you fuck me?"   
  
Snape closed his eyes and leaned back into the pillow. "You can believe that if you wish."   
  
Harry stared. What on earth was that supposed to mean? "I want the truth!" he snapped. "Are you on Voldemort's side or are you on our side? Dumbledore was so sure of your inherent goodness, but you killed him so obviously he was wrong."   
  
"Obviously," Snape said flatly.   
  
"So you admit it, then," Harry asked.   
  
Snape lifted an eyebrow. "I admit nothing."   
  
Harry threw his hands into the air. This was quite possibly the most frustrating conversation he had ever had. "Can't you just give me a straight answer?" he demanded. It seemed like every question he asked Snape, the man would simply side-step it and give him some sort of twisted convoluted statement that was most definitely not an answer to the question. "Whose side are you on?"   
  
Snape sighed. "The lines of battle aren't drawn as clearly as you might want to believe, Potter."   
  
"What?" Harry spluttered.   
  
"The two sides, as you so eloquently put it, don't exist."   
  
Harry stared.   
  
"Well, they do exist," Snape amended.   
  
"I should think so!" Harry said. "If they didn't, then what has this war been about?"   
  
"The lines between both sides aren't as clear-cut," Snape continued. "I did support Albus; however, I do not agree with everything your side has been doing. I also supported the Dark Lord, but I also do not agree with everything he has done."   
  
"You're a double-agent," Harry said bitterly. "Out to save your own skin, no doubt."   
  
Snape shrugged. "If you wish to see it that way. I did save your life, though."   
  
"Undoubtedly for your own purposes," Harry pointed out. "Or to have me as some sort of perverse entertainment for Voldemort."   
  
Snape's mouth thinned. "That was never my intention. The Dark Lord would not agree to my plan until I had allowed him to put a recording device in your room so that he could keep an eye on what was happening. There may be other recording devices elsewhere in this house, but the only one I'm positive about is in that corner."   
  
Harry's mouth was dry. Finally, Snape seemed to be talking. "Go on," he managed to get out.   
  
"There's not much more to tell," Snape said flatly.   
  
"Does that mean Voldemort didn't trust you?" Harry asked slowly. "After all, why else would he want to watch what you did with your slaves?" The word was still bitter in his mouth, but Harry pushed on. "After all, I doubt he watches Malfoy."   
  
Harry was surprised when Snape said, "Of course the Dark Lord doesn't trust me. He made that abundantly clear last night." There was a bitter twist in his words. "And rightfully so."   
  
Harry's eyes widened. Was Snape saying what Harry thought he was saying? There was a tiny flicker of hope in his stomach that warred with the fear that had been there for so long. "Are you saying that you don't agree with what Voldemort's doing?"   
  
"Of course not!" Snape said, sounding surprisingly angry. "I had expected that the Battle of Hogwarts would be the end of the war. The last six years have been an unpleasant surprise."   
  
That was one way to put it, Harry supposed. "Then why haven't you done something about it?" he asked.   
  
Snape smirked. "I have." He lifted an arm and gestured towards Harry.   
  
It took Harry a few seconds to get his meaning. "Are you trying to say that bringing me here was all some sort of plot? A plot to bring down Voldemort?" he spluttered. "Then what was the whole thing a few nights ago then?"   
  
If he had expected Snape to look apologetic, then he was disappointed. Snape simply narrowed his eyes. "That was to convince the Dark Lord that I can break you," he said softly. "It was to convince him that I'm on his side. This is war, Potter. Nasty things happen in war, and while what happened to you was... unfortunate. It was also necessary."   
  
"Unfortunate," Harry repeated. "That's one way to put it!" He dug his nails into his palms. "You raped me!"   
  
Snape's eyes were burning as they seemed to bore into his. "It was _necessary_ , Potter," he said, his voice a low hiss. "I admit, I did not plan for this attack on my person to happen, but it is the perfect opportunity for me to show the Dark Lord that I have truly broken Harry Potter."   
  
"Is Voldemort going to believe that you broke me so easily?" Harry protested. It wasn't as though he didn't like Snape's plan. It just happened that he didn't think it was believable. He wasn't so weak that Snape could break him in a few days! Harry looked away as the image of his face pressed up against the wall and Snape pushing deep into him from behind surfaced again. Why couldn't he stop thinking about that?   
  
Snape's eyes gleamed. "I have a potion in that cupboard you raided last night. It weakens the will and decreases inhibitions."   
  
Harry stared.   
  
"Stop worrying, Potter," Snape said irritably. "I'm not going to actually give you the potion. However, I have already started to make it look like I'm slowly drugging you. The Dark Lord should believe it if you start acting like a proper slave."   
  
"You haven't given it to me already, have you?" Harry asked slowly.   
  
Snape arched an eyebrow. "I don't believe in drugging my slaves," he drawled. "Why? Have you been feeling decreased inhibitions lately?"   
  
"No!" Harry exclaimed. "I was just wondering, that's all."   
  
"You will look after me over the next week or so until I recover," Snape said smoothly. "This should be enough to show the Dark Lord that I have tamed you. You will do exactly as I say, when I say it."   
  
Harry's stomach did a flip. From the tone in Snape's voice, he could imagine what some of these things might be. "Then what?" Harry demanded. "So what if he believes that I'm some sort of loyal slave who'll listen to your every word? So what?"   
  
"Then, the Dark Lord will invite us both along to a Death Eater gathering," Snape said acidly. "You will have access to both means and opportunity to kill him there. What more do you want? He always invites his most trusted Death Eaters along to these events and their slaves always accompany them. If we can convince him that we can both be trusted, then security at the event will be fairly light. It will be the perfect opportunity."   
  
Harry's mouth dropped open. Now that Snape had said it, it almost sounded like it could work. "And if it doesn't work the first time?" he asked slowly.   
  
Snape's eyes gleamed. "Then we must try again, and again, until it does work. These gatherings happen once a month. Once you seem like a fixture there, once they forget that you are _the_ Harry Potter and just think of you as my slave, then it will be very, very easy."   
  
"But I'll still have this," Harry said, lifting his arm and pointing at the slave bracelet.   
  
Snape waved a hand. "That can easily be disabled," he said casually. "When the time comes."   
  
Harry opened his mouth and then closed it again. He looked over at Snape. "You've thought about this for a long time, haven't you?"   
  
Snape nodded curtly. "It will work, Potter," he said. Harry saw his thin fingers curled around the bedspread. "We will both avenge ourselves."   
  
There was a long pause before Harry nodded as well.   
  


-^-

  
  
"Here you go," Harry said. He was careful to keep his voice sounding slightly dull, like he was drugged. "Would you like me to feed you the soup?"   
  
Snape's mouth twitched. "That won't be necessary." He took the bowl of soup from Harry's hands and rested it on his knee.   
  
Harry could feel a wave of relief wash over him. He didn't think he could keep up this charade long enough to feed Snape an entire bowl of soup. That sort of pretence was beyond him. He was having enough trouble not looking over at the recording device, now that he knew it was there. After Snape had activated it again, Harry had spent the entire morning lying on the bed, not daring to do anything, even go to the toilet. He didn't want Voldemort watching him eat, or sleep or using the loo. He had also spent the entire day wondering if they would be found out. Now that a few days had passed, Harry breathed a bit easier. Obviously their subterfuge had gone unnoticed.   
  
Snape reached over and brushed Harry's hair away from his face. Harry stiffened at the touch but managed to stop himself from pulling away or flinching. "I thought today that I could teach you something about pleasure and pain."   
  
"Shouldn't you eat your soup first?" Harry pointed out.   
  
Snape's eyes narrowed and Harry could just see him resisting the urge to point out that Harry wasn't acting particularly broken. He watched as Snape put the bowl aside on the bedside table and gestured for Harry to sit on the bed. "The soup can wait," Snape said briskly.   
  
"Very well," Harry said, careful to keep a blank face. Inside, his nerves were thrumming. Just what was Snape playing at? He knew that Snape had said that Harry had to obey his every command, but what was this about pleasure and pain? He _really_ didn't like the sound of it.   
  
"Lie over my lap," Snape said, his voice a low purr.   
  
Harry stared, his eyes widening.   
  
"Now," Snape ordered. His eyes flashed.   
  
Hesitantly, Harry clambered onto the bed and awkwardly positioned himself over Snape's lap. The proximity to Snape made his heart race and his palms sweat. Even though this was different to before, he couldn't help but still remember what Snape had done to him, before he realised that this was all a giant hoax to trick Voldemort. Angrily, Harry noted that Snape still seemed to get the better end of the deal.   
  
Harry was alarmed when Snape pulled up the bottom of his robes to reveal his bare arse. He hadn't worn underwear underneath his robes since he got here, because Snape hadn't supplied him with any. It had made him feel curiously vulnerable. He was even more alarmed when, with a rushing of air, Snape's bare hand slapped down sharply on his arse.   
  
"What?" Harry said and tried to move to get up again, but Snape held him down firmly. He struggled slightly, but all that seemed to do was amuse Snape. To Harry's shock, he felt something hard poking up at him.   
  
"Stay still, Potter," Snape advised. "You might find that you enjoy it."   
  
His hand lingered over Harry's arse before delivering another sharp smack. Harry squirmed. He definitely wasn't enjoying this. What on earth was Snape doing? This wasn't part of their deal! He thought that they would have to put on another couple of shows for Voldemort's sake, and he'd readied himself to be screwed into the bed. At least there was plenty of that cream to soothe his skin afterwards. But this!   
  
Snape pushed his robed up further and then leaned down to press a gentle kiss down on Harry's arse before smacking it again, and again, and _again_. Harry felt as though his arse was on fire, when Snape began to use his other hand to reach down, brushing it against his cock. Harry's heart pounded as he told himself that it was just a physical reaction, but it didn't explain why his cock seemed to lengthen so quickly. His cock was pressed up against Snape's own and as Snape bucked his hips, Harry could feel their cocks pressing together.   
  
It was almost exquisite agony and at the back of his mind, Harry repeated a mantra that it was wrong, wrong, _wrong_ but he kept on getting confused and he kept on losing his place in the mantra, getting distracted because Snape kept on grinding his hips upwards and his hand kept on delivering sharp smacks to Harry's arse.   
  
"There's nothing more painful than love and nothing more lovely than pain," Snape murmured as he bent over Harry.   
  
Through the haze, Harry could only just pick up on the words. Was Snape saying that he loved him? No, that was ridiculous. Harry gasped as Snape's hand slapped his arse again. This shouldn't feel good, he knew it, he must be sick to actually enjoy this, but somehow, despite everything, Harry realised that he was getting off on this. At least it made it easier to pretend, Harry thought wildly as Snape's hand moved to caress his arse before sharply slapping it again.   
  
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Snape said softly, a slight tinge of surprise in his voice. Harry could feel the brush of cold air over his arse, the prelude to the quick stinging pain and the pleasure of Snape's hips and cock thrusting up against his own.   
  
Harry just gasped and buried his face in the blankets, moaning as Snape's hand descended again, and again, and again.   
  
Harry's head spun and he barely noticed when Snape had turned him around and then pulled his head up. The kiss was rough, almost angry and their teeth clicked together, but Harry barely noticed as he reached up to twine his fingers in Snape's hair and pulled him down. He could feel Snape's fingers wrapping around his cock, stroking him, slowly until Harry begged and then he quickened, while Harry gasped into Snape's neck. Harry could feel himself coming close and he knew that he shouldn't, that Voldemort was watching, that this was all some sort of twisted plot, but he found himself pulling Snape down and kissing him hard as he came, spurting all over Snape's robes.   
  


-^-

  
  
"So it worked," Harry said, not looking at Snape. He didn't want to think about what they had done over the last few days, and he definitely didn't want to think about the fact that, at least, his body seemed to enjoy it. He didn't want to think about the entire fucked-up situation. Once this was over, he was going to move far, far away and never see Snape again. That and get a lot of therapy. Harry suspected that once he let his mind deal with what had happened in the last six years, he'd be paying a lot for a therapist.   
  
Snape nodded brusquely as he put the invitation on the table. "Malfoy Manor. One hour."   
  
"Not much notice," Harry observed as he looked at the gilded invitation.   
  
"The Dark Lord likes to know that he has his Death Eaters at his beck and call," Snape said wryly. "Sometimes, he even chooses to use the Dark Mark to summon us."   
  
"I guess we should get ready," Harry said. His heart was pounding. This was something he had been working up to for six years. He never thought it would be like this, though. He thought he'd be marching in with his head and wand held high, not sneaking in as a slave. Harry pressed his lips together. This was the only way. He wasn't sure he was ready to face Voldemort, but he knew he had to.   
  
Harry flinched as Snape placed a hand on his shoulder. "You need to stop doing that," Snape told him, but there was no harshness in his tone. "If this isn't believable, then we'll both end up in Sector Five."   
  
Harry nodded sharply. He knew that. Given a choice between here and Sector Five, he would have chosen to remain here with Snape. They had fallen into a sort of routine lately and it wasn't as bad as Harry had imagined. When he closed his eyes, the nightmares were still there, but they were tempered by the fact that he knew that this wasn't Snape's fault. Snape was as much of a pawn in Voldemort's game as he was. "Sorry," he muttered and willed himself to relax as Snape wrapped an arm around his shoulder. It was an oddly comforting gesture, one more suited to lovers than their current situation. Despite himself, Harry found himself leaning into the embrace.   
  
"Much better," Snape said softly into his ear. "You need to look broken and you will have to obey my every command."   
  
Harry gritted his teeth. He knew that. They'd gone through this plenty of times and they'd given Voldemort a pretty graphic show of how broken he was. "I know," he snapped. "Now didn't you say I needed 'proper' robes?" When he had got the invitation, Snape had taken him out of the room, seemingly under the pretence of getting him appropriate robes to wear to the gathering, but Harry knew that if they dallied much longer, Voldemort would be suspicious. They never knew when Voldemort might be watching through the camera, so Harry had to be on guard the entire time.   
  
Snape handed him a set of silk green robes that were edged with silver. "These should be adequate," he said smoothly.   
  
Harry stared. "I'd look like a walking advertisement for Slytherin," he pointed out.   
  
Snape gave him a long look. "There is nothing wrong with that."   
  
"Sorry," Harry muttered as he took the robes. He waited for Snape to turn away, but he didn't. "I guess this is another one of those things I need to get used to?" Harry asked as he pulled his own robes off quickly. He shivered at the sudden cold.   
  
"Yes," Snape said.   
  
Just before Harry put the green silk robes on, he snuck a look through his eyelashes at Snape. There was that strange look in Snape's eyes again. Was he enjoying this? Harry wasn't sure, but he realised with surprise that he didn't mind Snape looking at him. He shook his head slightly to dispel the thought. They were just working together to defeat Voldemort. Nothing more. Anything else he was feeling was some sort of twisted sort of gratitude. Hurriedly, Harry buttoned up the green robes.   
  
As Harry looked up, he realised that Snape was still giving him that odd look.   
  
"What?"   
  
"They suit you," Snape said finally. "Come along. We must be going."   
  
Harry followed dutifully behind Snape, careful to seem like an obedient slave. Snape admitted that he wasn't completely sure that Voldemort wouldn't have hired somebody to put cameras up in other areas of his house without his knowledge. The only room that he was positive about was his bedroom, which Snape swept every day for any form of listening spell.   
  
"There is a Portkey outside," Snape said as they walked. "We will both be taking that."   
  
"Yes," Harry said quietly. He resisted the urge to finger the slave bracelet on his arm. It was still binding his magic, but just a few minutes ago it had been simply a cold circlet of metal now. Snape had taken the spell off it before when they had entered his bedroom and Harry had immediately felt magic bubbling up underneath his skin. Snape had given him a serious look and told him that he could disable the dampening field by pressing a certain area on the bracelet, but to only do so if he had a chance – a real chance – of defeating Voldemort. Harry had nodded earnestly. He knew they only had one chance at this. It didn't have to be today, but Harry hoped that it was.   
  
"Come along," Snape said irritably. "Don't lag behind."   
  
Harry hurried to keep up with him as Snape rounded the corner towards the entrance.   
  
Just before they walked outside, Snape stopped and murmured a few words. "I have temporarily increased the bracelet's field to cover Malfoy Manor and its grounds," he said curtly.   
  
Harry nodded. "Thank you." He watched as Snape hesitated. Almost without meaning to, Harry stepped forward and took Snape's hand, giving it a squeeze.   
  
Snape gave him a look of surprise before tightening his fingers around Harry's hand.   
  


-^-

  
  
Everybody looked to Harry Potter to save them. Harry knew they still did even though he had been captured and sold as a slave. He could see it in the eyes of the people in Diagon Alley when Snape had dragged him through there after the auction. He could even see it in Snape's eyes, whenever the other man's guard was down; there was a flicker of hope and something else that made his heart ache.   
  
Harry looked over at Snape and tightened his fingers around the other man's hand. He was going to save them; he was going to save everybody. No, _they_ were going to save everybody. He cleared his throat. "Shall we go?" he asked softly.   
  
Snape nodded.   
  
As they stepped out of the door together, into the bright sunlight outside, Harry felt some of the numbness melt away.   
  


The end


End file.
